Two Wills and A Way
by Lady Tragic
Summary: Willow casts a spell for Spike and things go horribly awry. Season 3, starts with an AU of "Lover's Walk" and goes off from there. Dark, eventual Spillow.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Two Wills and a Way  
**Pairings:** Spike/Willow  
**Rating:** PG, rating will go up I expect.  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** Spoilers for Lover's Walk and a good part of Season 3. Kidnapping, angst, emotional unhealthiness and darker Stockholm Syndrome type stuff later on.  
**Summary:** Starts with an AU of Lover's Walk, and spins wildly out of control from there. Willow casts a spell to get Spike over Drusilla, but it goes horribly awry. Great big piles of thanks to my beta, Snickfic

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"…So I was going to have you perform a love spell for me, but while I was waiting for you to come 'round, I had a bloody _revelation." _

That was the first coherent thing Willow registered, even though Spike had obviously been talking to her for some time. She pieced through her foggy thoughts to try and figure out what had happened. She'd been in the science lab, working on the de-lusting spell and waiting for Xander to arrive when someone had hit her from behind… which explained how she wound up in the factory with a headache, but not why Spike was going on about love spells. He was wearing a track in the floor as he gestured with a bottle that reeked of something alcoholic.

'What's going on?' she meant to ask. What came out was an intelligently slurred "Bwuh?"

He stopped his pacing, and gave her a look that was uncharacteristically apologetic. "Didn't mean to hit you so hard. Meant to have this done with hours ago," he muttered. Then he looked at her, and stated with only a little slurring, "A spell. For me. You're gonna do a spell for me."

"Uh, what kind of spell?"

He glared at her. "Weren't you listening? I was going to have you cast a love spell on Drusilla. But then I thought, you know what? Forget her." He began pacing energetically again, albeit rather unsteadily. "If I ever see her again, I want to be able to say I am done with her bloody games." He took several deep swallows from his bottle, then looked at Willow. "What are you staring at?"

She averted her eyes. "Nothing."

"You can do it, right?" He asked, suddenly uncertain. "You can make me get over Dru? Let me free of her?"

"I can try." Willow stammered nervously.

Suddenly, Spike's hand was around her neck, and he was all fury. "What are you talking about, trying? You'll do it!"

"Yes, I'll do it!" she cried, terrified.

He let go of her, and smashed his bottle against a bedpost. Then he grabbed her again, brandishing the sharp edges. "You lie to me, and I'll shove this through your face! You want that?"

"No..."

"Right through to your _brain." _Willow swore on the spot that she was never, ever drinking.

"No, please, no..." she stammered nervously. He shoved her aside, and she collapsed on the bed.

"She wouldn't even kill me," he said with a forlornness Willow didn't think the statement warranted. Suddenly, he slumped, sitting next to her. "She just left. She didn't even care enough to cut off my head or set me on fire." He sniffled. _Spike, _the Big Bad, sniffled. That was so wrong, even if he was drunk. "I mean, is that too much to ask? You know? Some little sign that she cared? That I mattered more than one of her stupid dolls?" He paused for a moment, taking several deep breaths, which Willow thought was odd.

"I guess I didn't. She said it was that truce with Buffy that did it, but I don't… Dru said I'd gone soft. Wasn't demon enough for the likes of her. And I told her it didn't mean anything, I was thinking of her the whole time, but she didn't care. So, we got to Brazil, and she was... she was just different. She'd decided she was done with me. I gave her everything -- beautiful jewels, beautiful dresses with beautiful girls in them, but nothing made her happy. I should have seen it sooner, you know? She would _flirt." _He dragged out the last word, and sniffed. "I caught her on a park bench, making out with a _Chaos_ Demon!" He looked at her hopelessly. "Have you ever seen a Chaos Demon? They're all slime and antlers. They're disgusting."

He looked at Willow, her pale, delicate face, and almost absently stroked her hair. Willow froze, like a deer in the headlights. Spike sighed. "She only did it to hurt me. So I said, 'I'm not putting up with this anymore.' And she said, 'Fine!' And I said, 'Yeah, I've got an unlife, you know!' And then she said... she said we could still be friends." Suddenly, he leaned on Willow's shoulder and sobbed. "God, I'm so unhappy!"

Definitely never drinking. Willow patted his knee, awkwardly, because it seemed like the thing to do. "There, there."

"I mean, friends! How could she be so cruel?" he continued, sniffling. "I just want her out of my head."

Suddenly, he raised his head and looked at Willow's neck. Looked at it _hungrily, _and Willow's terror, which had been abating in the face of Spike's soap-operatic lovesickness, returned full force. "Mmm..." he purred predatorily. "That smell... Your neck..."

He leaned in close, and Willow felt her body give a traitorous little shiver. " I haven't had a woman in weeks."

That snapped her out of it. She jumped back in fright. "Whoa! No! Hold it!"

He cocked his head at her. "Well, unless you count that shopkeeper."

" Now, now, hold on!" she stammered, panting with fright and other things. "I-I'll do your spell for you, and, and, and I'll get you over Drusilla, but, but there will be no bottle-in-face, and there will be no 'having' of any kind with me. Alright?"

He grabbed her suddenly, and bent her over. But he made no move to bite her. Instead, he gave her a long look up and down that made her shiver again in a way that wasn't purely terror.

"Alright." He said, releasing her abruptly. "Get started. And no lies about missing ingredients -- I brought everything you had at the school.

"How do you know it's the right stuff?" she stalled. "I-I mean, spell ingredients aren't one-size-fits-all…"

He glared, and took a threatening step forward. "I'm not stupid, Red. I was watching you in the shop. It's what gave me the idea… I've got all your things, and I double-checked it against your bloody list. So no tricks. Just do the spell, and you're free to go."

Willow stepped around the bed to where Spike dumped the box of supplies. "I'm not a real witch, you know," she said, glancing at him fearfully. "I-I don't know if this is gonna work right away."

"Well, if at first you don't succeed, I'll hunt down one of your friends, bring you their bloody head, and you try again. I reckon I'll know if I'm not in love with her anymore." He said the last rather forlornly.

The thing about love (or un-love) spells was that they took a bit of time to set up. The potion needed to sit for at least half an hour before you could cast the spell, and Willow didn't dare try it a minute sooner. But that meant she just had to… wait. With Spike. Which pretty much consisted of nodding while he rambled on about Dru.

"I just can't go on like this," he was saying, cradling the broken remains of a doll. "I'm just waiting for her to waltz back in, goin' on and on about burning baby fish or something." Willow nodded, afraid to reply. "A man can't live like that, yeh? Especially when I don't even know that she'll come… She's my sire, but I've got to grow up sometime, right?" He looked to Willow for confirmation.

"Right," she replied meekly, stirring the potion with the feather.

"Never been without Dru. I don't know what I'll…" he trailed off.

"You could go somewhere." Willow offered timidly. "I mean, is there anything you always wanted to do that she didn't like?"

Spike cocked his head at her thoughtfully. "She hated the cold. Always wanted to go warm places… Yeh, maybe I'll go north. Somewhere where it gets properly cold in winter, y'know?"

Willow shook her head. "Uh, no. I don't… I mean, I've never seen snow."

He shook his head. "Shame. S'not really _winter_ without it. I remember one year, me an' Dru spent Christmas in New York… spent the whole week picking up tourists from the Rockefeller Center. Real pretty, with the big tree all lit up…" But his face fell as he reminisced. He dropped his face into his hands.

_Oh no, he's going to get all weepy again. _Willow thought with alarm, and said the first thing that popped into her head. "Vampires celebrate Christmas?"

Spike gave her a bemused look through his fingers, but the crying jag was defused. "We do what we please, Red. How's that potion coming?" He stood, and began to pace again.

"Umm… Close? Just a few more minutes. Just to make sure." Willow replied anxiously.

"Do it now!" he snapped at her. "I am bloody _sick_ of all this maudlin bollocks." Willow froze, blinking. "I said, do it!"

Willow hurriedly fumbled for her book and the feathers, and nearly spilled the bucket with the potion -- and _that_ would be really bad, and hesitantly began the incantation. It was simple enough -- plain English, no tricky Latin, it was really all in the potion. As long as she'd gotten that right…

_"W-what should release, now constricts  
Aphrodite, I beseech thee,  
Remove these bonds thou hast inflicted…"_

She stirred the mixture gently with the feather. "Let William's heart be free." _Please, please let this work. _She glanced up at Spike nervously.

He just stared at her. _Oh god oh god it didn't work. _But he didn't look angry; he just stared at her with this funny look like he was seeing something he hadn't noticed before. Then he shook as head as though to clear, it, grinned broadly --

-- And kissed her on the mouth. Not a serious kiss, just a sudden touch of lips, and then he was gone, practically bouncing around the room. "Bloody brilliant, Red!" he told her happily. "Couldn't care less about the bint."

She smiled back weakly. He looked her up and down again, that same odd look of reappraisal. "Let's get you safe before the Slayer comes looking. Sooner I can get out of this dump, the better." Willow blinked, not quite understanding. He frowned at her. "What, you didn't think I was just going to leave you to find your own way back, did you? Got to get you out of here."

Willow wasn't exactly an expert or anything, but Spike was a weirdly polite kidnapper. Did she want a ride home? No, she didn't want him to know where she lived. Fair enough. How about Buffy's? No, just take her to the nearest gas station and she'd call them. So he did -- and then refused to leave, pointing out that it was the middle of the night, and Sunnydale to boot, and he wasn't going to be held responsible if she got mugged and/or eaten between him leaving and her getting picked up. So they waited in awkward silence, Spike pacing furiously until Oz's van pulled around the bend, at which point he didn't waste a second getting out of there.

"Where will you go?" Curiosity got the better of her, and the query was out before she could stop it.

He paused in closing the door and grinned, seeming ridiculously pleased with the world. "Hell if I know, Red."

And then Oz showed up, (and Buffy as well, but Willow didn't even register her until a couple minutes later) his worry blatant even through his generally muted exterior. He kissed her soundly, then hugged her until she felt like she might pop while murmuring in her ear how worried he'd been. And Willow just… melted against him, and could have stayed that way forever, but Buffy needed to grill her.

Was it weird that over the next few days, being kidnapped actually slipped her mind? In fairness, it wasn't a particularly traumatic experience, unless you counted major TMI about Spike's relationship with Drusilla. Which was… pretty ewww. But in any case, after the second and final grilling by Giles (which had all the same questions as Buffy's, but far more eloquently phrased) it simply dropped off her mental radar. Such was the nature of the Hellmouth -- there was always another crisis that needed dealing with, no time for adverse effects from the last one. "That time I got kidnapped by a vampire" got filed away with other unpleasant experiences such as "the time I choked on a carrot at a family reunion and passed out and my cousin laughed instead of helping me," probably to be dealt with in therapy at some point in the future when she had a mental breakdown. Willow occasionally had the feeling that this whole fighting evil thing was going to put them all in cozy padded rooms -- and not just because anyone they told would likely call the nice men in white coats.

Though, the breakdown? Might be coming sooner than she thought, because the next crisis turned out to be, not a demonic crisis, but a werewolf crisis. Though, even calling it that put it more in the realm of the supernatural than it was. It was an Oz crisis. Or a her-and-Oz crisis, really. With Xander and Cordelia involved by extension, because when Willow had talked Xander into staying after school so she could take another shot at getting them de-lusted -- and that was kind of a silver lining, right? That she'd been able to practice it? -- They'd wound up making out in the chemistry lab. _Again. _And since they were supposedly 'studying', Buffy and Oz and Cordelia had decided they could use some after school study time too and came to join them.

So now there was no Willow-and-Oz, or Xander-and-Cordelia, and even Buffy got to have a little share in the misery because none of them were talking to each other. Or even looking each other in the eye, for that matter; except Cordelia, who had an abundance of vicious glares to shoot at Willow and Xander in the halls, with her new crony Anya at her heels.

And because she was thinking about this as she walked home from Buffy's, she wasn't paying attention to anything around her. She was busy resenting the fact that she now had a dusk curfew, as a consequence for her unexplained all-nighter the weekend before, _even though_ Buffy and Xander had vouched for her the whole time. It wasn't like she could just _tell_ them she'd been kidnapped by an undead Englishman. And just to rub salt in the wound, they thought she'd snuck off with her boyfriend. The boyfriend who she'd been _stupid_ enough to lose because of her idiotic little crush on Xander. So, because of her anger, at herself and at the parental injustice that denied her much-needed girl-time, she didn't notice that she was being followed by a black car until it stopped, the door slammed, and Spike stepped out of it.

He grabbed her firmly by the waist, and slung her over his shoulder, ignoring her kicking and pounding like he would a fly, and she yelled her lungs out to no avail. She realized cynically that this was _Sunnydale_, people filtered out the screams -- and Spike dumped her in the back seat of his DeSoto, hopped into the driver's seat and floored the gas.

Buffy would have a quip. Heck, Willow could even think of a great one -- 'We can't keep seeing each other like this,' or something like that. But what came out was a squeaky little whimper. Kind of a "Muh?" noise.

Spike glanced at her in the rearview mirror, and Willow was disconcerted by his lack of reflection in it. "Buckle up, Red." He told her with a leer. "We're goin' for a ride."


	2. Chapter 2

"The spell worked, didn't it?" Willow finally got the nerve to ask. He hadn't said anything since he dragged her into the car, simply sped down the highway in a silence that the rock music he had blaring on the radio didn't quite manage to fill. "I mean if it wore off or something there's nothing I can…"

"Nah, s'not that. Spell worked fine."

"Oh." She paused, running through other possibilities. It was a short list. "So it's a Buffy thing?"

"What?"

"I mean, you're using me as bait, right? Or to get at her."

"Oh. No."

"What?"

"Buffy coming after us isn't part of the plan. But," he added with a grin, "I won't say no to a fight if she does."

…Okay, so what the hell does that leave? Suddenly, Willow realized that not knowing what was going on was a lot more frightening than the kidnapping itself. And as they reached the LA city limits, it was compounded to bone-chilling terror with the knowledge that if Spike didn't wantBuffy to find them, she might not be able to. LA was a big city, and they wouldn't even know for sure that Spike had gone here. If they even stopped here…

They did, as it happened, at a seedy looking motel. "You're comin' in with me," he told her frankly, grabbing a duffel bag from the seat next to him."And no nonsense, Red. This is a demon neighborhood. You run from me, and you'll only find something worse."

Demon neighborhood? LA had _demon neighborhoods? _She was about to call him on this absurdity as he steered her into the lobby with an iron grip on her arm, when she looked at the front desk and saw that the lady manning it had horns. Her protests died in her throat, and she barely registered their conversation, until the demon at the desk eyed Willow appraisingly, and said, "-- And if you make a mess, you clean it up or pay double."

"Got it. C'mon, Red."

Spike marched her down the hall to a small room that smelled of bleach, which honestly was not the worst thing a cheap motel room could smell of, but not at all reassuring in light of the demoness's remark about 'messes'.

Spike threw her down on the bed, pinning her down as she struggled in vain. He bound her wrists with rope from the duffel bag, then her ankles. Then he stopped and just _looked _at her, and there was something in his eyes that terrified Willow. He reached down, and softly stroked her cheek. Then he abruptly straightened, smoothing his hair with one hand.

"Don't bother screaming," he informed her brusquely. "No one will help you, and believe me, you _don't _ want to annoy the neighbors." And with that, he stormed out, leaving Willow alone.

She wasn't sure how long she laid there, too frightened to move. The walls were thin, and beyond them she could here noises – thumps and moans not at all alien to cheap motels, and other sounds that she was pretty sure couldn't be made by human vocal chords. It was the snarls, the rumbles and one particularly loud shriek that convinced Willow she needed to move, _now_

Spike had been careful when he tied her – like she was something fragile he was afraid of denting. Since she couldn't think of any reason for Spike to be concerned for her welfare, this was doubly worrying. The upside of this was that hadn't tied her quite as tightly as he should have. She managed to slide the bindings around so the knot was at the front, rubbing her wrists raw in the process. and pick it apart with her teeth. Feeling rather proud of herself, she untied her feet and slipped out of the room. She just had to find a pay phone, and… not die until Oz could come get her.

There was a phone in the lobby, and the receptionist could care less about her. Willow picked up the phone and did something, which, in retrospect, might have been quite foolish. She called Buffy. Not the cops, not Oz with his car, Buffy – because that was what you _did_ in crazy situations.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the phone was quiet – trying not to wake her mother, most likely.

"Buffy, it's Willow."

"Willow? What's wrong?" Buffy said, picking up on the anxiety in her voice. Oh god, of course Buffy didn't know anything was amiss.

"Spike kidnapped me, Buffy, and I'm in LA, in this cheap motel and Spike says it's a demon neighborhood and I've got to get out of here…"

"Oh, God. I'll call –" She never found out who Buffy would call, because a huge, unnaturally hot hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her away from the phone.

The demon was huge and reddish and vaguely taurine, with a head like a bull's but with far too many eyes. It pinned her against the wall, and pressed it's snout into her neck, breathing deeply. It snorted, and said, "Terrified. _Delicious._ Tender little morsel…"

Willow whimpered and writhed, causing the receptionist to look up from her magazine. She looked Willow in the eye.

"Don't break anything," she said blandly to the demon, and went back to reading her _Cosmo._ The demon grinned, it's mouth filled with pointed teeth. A long tongue snaked out, licking Willow's neck, and she screamed, drawing no more than an annoyed look from the receptionist. It was the _texture_ of it, hot and wet and writhing like a snake. Then suddenly, something collided with the beast's head, and it howled, turning on its assailant. There was Spike, who had just thrown a chair.

"She's _mine_," he hissed through his fangs as the many-eyed demon loomed over him. Not that she wasn't (relatively) grateful, but why did he even care? The demon sniffed once, twice, and snorted – and to her surprise, backed down. It shuffled down the hall, Spike watching it suspiciously all the way.

And then Spike hugged her. Willow was too shocked to do anything but stand there as he nuzzled her cheek and whispered "I thought I'd lost you, love."

Then he kissed her as Willow stood rigid, and he couldn't have terrified her more if he'd bitten her.


End file.
